She has pimento red hair
a smile quick as a corn snake

            they say her temper
            could rattle a creek bed

they say she spits out gospel
like brushfire in a barrel

            but her rocking is soft and
            curved as a fern frond

She says:

            listen to the mockingbird
            an errant soul in the night

knocking off the songs of others
like a plumaged longing

            like a last-gasp
            crooning for a consort    

Curved as a fern frond
her rocking is soft

            as brushfire in a barrel but
            they say she spits out gospel

that could rattle a creek bed
they say her temper

            is quick as a corn snake
            and she has pimento red hair